I laughed quietly. “Vegard can knock. Who knew?”
“He learned his lesson from last time.” I felt Mychael’s warm breath against my temple. “Though his timing needs work.”
Last time. I’d fallen asleep in the bathtub, and Sarad Nukpana had invaded my dreams. Mychael sensed something was wrong and knocked on my door. When I didn’t answer, he essentially disintegrated the door. Vegard had seen me moments later in a towel. Mychael had gotten there first; he’d seen me naked.
Vegard’s combination grimace and apologetic smile told us he knew what he’d interrupted. “The healer is finished with Piaras, sir.”
“Show him in.”
Vegard did and closed the door behind him.
Piaras’s posture was ramrod straight, his chin up, ready to face the consequences of his actions, to accept the punishment for what he did. But most of all he was scared to death and determined not to show it.
“How much trouble am I in?” Piaras was also ready to get it over with.
“You’re not in trouble,” Mychael told him. “Not from me or the archmagus. But you are in danger.”
“Inquisitor Balmorlan.” Piaras had to force his voice to say the words.
“Him, too,” I said. “But mainly Sarad Nukpana.”
Piaras was confused. “But he’s—”
“Yeah, inside the Saghred,” I finished. “Problem is the containment spells around the Saghred are gone.”
Piaras looked at Mychael in disbelief. “They failed?”
“Eaten away from inside over the past few days,” Mychael said. “And our best spellweavers haven’t been able to repair them.”
“Meaning that there’s nothing between me and the souls inside the Saghred,” I told Piaras. “I’ve spoken with my father—and with Sarad Nukpana. Through dreams at first, then in a more direct way, like a voice in my head.”
“Piaras, have you had any dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” Mychael asked quietly.
Piaras swallowed hard, and the pulse throbbed in his throat. That told me all I never wanted to know. Sarad Nukpana was a master of lies, but he hadn’t lied to me about Piaras. The goblin had been inside Piaras’s head while he slept and influenced him while he was awake. He’d taken the first steps to carrying out his threat. He’d made his move, now he expected me to make mine. Get the Scythe of Nen, get him out of the Saghred. If I refused, Piaras’s fate—and his blood—would be on my hands.
I forced myself to stay calm. “Do you remember any of your dreams?”
“Not really. I remembered that I didn’t like them . . .” Piaras shook his head. “But I don’t remember what he told me.” He hesitated. “Or what he did.” Hesitancy turned to horror, but not panic. “What did he do to me?”
Piaras was keeping his head, or at least trying. The next time Sarad Nukpana put in an appearance in my dreams, I would find a way to strangle him.
“He may be influencing your actions,” Mychael told him.
Piaras was silent for a few heartbeats. “What I did tonight?”
“You’re good with a blade,” I told him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie, but you’re not that good. You were fighting two-on-one, and those embassy guards were doing their best to divide and distract. You didn’t fall for it.”
Piaras drew a deep breath; it shuddered as he exhaled. “In practice I still fall for it, don’t I?”
I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, you do. And when one of them attacked, you didn’t drop your guard against the second one. You kept your vitals covered and your blade moving.”
“But I’ve been working on that in lessons,” he protested.
“And how is it going?” I knew and so did Piaras. As if what Sarad Nukpana had done to him wasn’t enough, now I was making him admit that he wasn’t a good enough fighter to have survived on his own tonight. But the first step to surviving Nukpana was for Piaras to realize just how much danger he was in. No doubt Sarad Nukpana had wanted him to kill that elven Guardian and all of those embassy guards. And no doubt Taltek Balmorlan and the elven ambassador would have come up with a perfectly good reason why their guards were wearing Guardian uniforms—and an even better reason to charge Piaras with five murders.
Piaras’s jaw clenched. “I fought better tonight than in my lessons, didn’t I?”
“A lot better.”
His gaze became distant. “When I disarmed Sir Jari, I knew you were there,” he told Mychael. “But I just couldn’t let him go. Everything was blurry, like I was there, but not really. Some part of me wanted to kill him.”
Change of plan. I was going to kick Sarad Nukpana in the balls, then I’d strangle him.
“There is a way to confirm that Nukpana was responsible,” Mychael told him. “If you would allow me.”
Piaras stood firm. “Do whatever you have to.”
Mychael went to stand in front of him and put his hand on Piaras’s forehead like he was checking for a fever. Mychael didn’t close his eyes, and neither did Piaras. After a few moments, Mychael’s lips tightened into a thin, tense line. I didn’t have to hear the word to know what he’d just thought. My own vocabulary choice was even more colorful.
Piaras didn’t move. “He’s been in my mind, hasn’t he?”
“He has.”
Piaras didn’t say anything else, but the emotions flowing over his face more than did the talking for him. Fear, helplessness, exhaustion, and rage were all there in spades. Piaras had been on the run with me since this whole crapfest had started. He wanted it to be over with, he wanted the people after him to leave him alone—the kid wanted his life back. All of those would work for me, too.
“But I was the one who killed that embassy guard,” Piaras all but whispered. “Sarad Nukpana didn’t have anything to do with it. I know he didn’t. I’d just conjured the bukas. The guard was trying to kill me to make them go away. Sir Jari and the other two were coming at me. When a buka roared, the guard was distracted. I lunged.” He looked like he was about to be sick. “I killed him.”
“Before he could kill you,” Mychael said. “It was self-defense.
In another second it would have been three on one. You eliminated a threat to survive.”
Piaras ran a hand over his face. “From live threat to dead in the street.”
“You did what you had to do,” I told him. “You did nothing wrong.”
“The three of them rushed me; I had no choice.” He said it, but he didn’t believe it.
My gut twisted. “No, you didn’t have a choice. Just because Balmorlan wants you alive doesn’t mean those elves wouldn’t have killed you and called it an accident.”
I shot a glance at Mychael. I’d known Piaras for years, but I had absolutely zero experience talking a young man through the guilt of his first kill. As Guardian commander, I hoped Mychael did. He’d better.
“Piaras, do you still want to be a Guardian?” Mychael asked solemnly.
“More than anything, sir. But . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they were glistening with tears he was determined not to shed.
Mychael gave no sign whatsoever that he noticed. I was glad Piaras wasn’t looking at me.
“But what, Piaras?” Mychael asked.
“I don’t think the Guardians still want me.” He said it so softly I barely heard him. “I killed a man tonight; I wanted to kill a Guardian, I put half the Guardians in the citadel to sleep last week, and most everyone on the island probably still thinks I tried to assassinate the archmagus. People are afraid of me, and some of them are Guardians.” Piaras looked like he was about to be sick. “They don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t want them to be.”
“Piaras, they were afraid of me, too,” Mychael told him.
“Uh, you’re their commander, sir. Aren’t they supposed to be?”
“I said were afraid. Now I have their respect. Changing from one to the other took time. You’ve only been here two weeks.” Mychael paused. “Piaras, look at me.”
> Piaras hesitated a moment and then met Mychael’s eyes.
“The Guardians were established to protect the Conclave, defend the Isle of Mid, and administer justice to any mage who would use his or her powers to bring harm to others. The city watchers are qualified to deal with most cases.” Mychael’s smile was grim. “That leaves the nasty ones for us.”
“Like Sarad Nukpana?” Piaras asked.
“Exactly like him. And one thing you can always count on is that every last one of them will fight back with any weapon at their disposal. Sarad Nukpana is inside the Saghred; that limits his options. He is incapable of physical attack, so he attacks the mind. As a Guardian, you would be trained not only to defend yourself against such attacks, but to strike back and defeat your adversary.”
“But why did he want me to kill Sir Jari?”
“Nukpana’s influence—”
I interrupted. “Mychael, I’m the reason he’s attacking Piaras; I should be the one to tell him why.”
Piaras looked at me in surprise. “You’re the reason?”
I snorted. “I’ve been the reason for everything lately.” I told him about the Scythe of Nen, and why Sarad Nukpana wanted me to find it—and then I told him what Nukpana had threatened to do to him if I refused. He needed to know; I wasn’t going to keep him in the dark.
“I can’t run from this.” Piaras didn’t ask it as a question. He knew the answer.
“Not when someone gets in your head,” I told him. “That’d be like trying to run from yourself. And believe me, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to do that. No luck yet.”
Piaras stood very still. “Is he in our heads right now?”
I felt my lips curl in a lopsided grin. “Honey, I’m too damned tired to have anything or anyone in my head right now.”
Piaras almost smiled. “It’s kind of quiet between my ears, too.” The smile vanished. “How will I know if Sarad Nukpana is trying to tell me what to do?”
“I’m going to take you to someone who can help,” Mychael said. “He can’t keep Nukpana out of your head, but he can help you know when your actions are not your own. We can begin teaching you how to defend yourself, but that will take time. Meanwhile, if Nukpana does come after you again, you will be with Guardians whom I trust to keep you out of trouble.”
“Vegard’s been ordered to sit on me,” I told him, trying to lighten things up.
Mychael grinned like a little boy, open and genuine. That one grin from the man he most admired did Piaras more good than anything.
“That’s another thing Guardians get a lot of experience doing,” Mychael told him, “keeping their brothers out of trouble.”
Piaras bit at his bottom lip. “Brothers?” To Piaras, that one word meant a dream come true, something to change the nightmare his life was turning into.
Mychael nodded once. “The Guardians are a brotherhood, Piaras. We take care of our own. You have a rare and powerful gift. Our order would be honored to accept you for training. But the final decision is yours to make.”
I saw a flicker of what may have been belief in his dark eyes. “Thank you, sir.” Belief strengthened into resolve. “I want to be a Guardian, Paladin Eiliesor. Teach me how to fight Sarad Nukpana.”
Mychael’s smile was fierce. “It would be my honor and pleasure, Cadet Rivalin.”
Mychael had his job to do, and I had mine. I knew exactly what I was going to do. There had never been any doubt in my mind. I was a seeker, one of the best. I was going to find that Scythe of Nen, whatever the hell it was, and I was going to find it before the demons got their claws on it. Finding valuables was what a Benares did best.
And double-crossing a goblin shaman who threatened someone I loved was what I did best.
Chapter 17
That someone who could help was Archmagus Justinius Valerian.
I had a whole list of reasons not to want to be seen by the most powerful mage in the seven kingdoms. I was under the impression—as was everyone else on Mid—that the old man was flat on his back and weak as a kitten. When I’d first arrived on the island, Justinius Valerian had looked at me and seen everything I had been, was now, and might possibly become. That last item on the list had just put the twitch back in my left eyelid. If the old man took a close look at me right now, he’d get himself an eyeful, and I’d probably be escorted to the closest containment room.
Right now there was a lot more inside of me besides me. The power generated by what had happened between me, Mychael, and Tam was still surging through my veins; the Saghred was seething below the surface. I was already linked to the Saghred, now I was magically attached to two of the most powerful dark and light mages, period. I was a demon-destroying, death-defying magical cataclysm waiting to happen.
We were still in the citadel. The Saghred was also in the citadel. I didn’t want to be on the same island with that rock, let alone in the same building, but Justinius’s apartments were in the citadel, so I didn’t exactly have a choice. The archmagus’s sickbed was probably one of the last places Piaras wanted to visit seeing that he’d been framed for trying to kill the old man. From the expression on Piaras’s face, the only help he expected from Justinius Valerian was help turning into a slug.
Mychael, Piaras, and I stopped at a pair of massive doors flanked by four heavily armed and armored Guardians. Really big guys with no expressions whatsoever. Though I was sure if anyone tried to get past them without permission, those Guardians would be plenty expressive. And lethal.
If the Guardians didn’t get you, the wards flowing across those doors would probably eat you alive and spit what was left across the room. I had no intention of putting it to the test. I’d be a lady and wait for Mychael to open those doors. Civilized behavior sometimes was a struggle for me, but I wasn’t stupid—or in this case, suicidal.
Piaras ran a hand through his hair, trying to put his tousled dark curls in some semblance of order. He was determined to see this thing through, and as much as I hated the necessity of him being here, I was proud of him. I felt a little smile coming on.
Mychael nodded to the Guardians posted on either side of the massive door.
I couldn’t understand the two Guardians’ chanting, but I could feel what it was doing. The wards peeled back and the doors opened. I expected Justinius’s apartment to be on the other side. Instead there was a long, wide corridor with a pair of Guardians every dozen feet or so. And more wards.
“Damn,” I breathed.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Mychael told me.
He could say that again. Nothing or no one could get through all that. Except you and the rock, the pessimist in my head just had to say. I told my pessimist to shut up.
Once we actually got inside Justinius’s apartments, there were two Guardians, and an older woman wearing healer’s robes. She respectfully inclined her head to Mychael. She was large boned and muscled like a Myloran sea-raider. Their men weren’t the only ones who took to the seas for fun and profit. If anyone made it past all of the guards and wards, I think Justinius’s healer could take them out all by her lonesome.
On the other side of the room was a large canopied bed with the curtains pulled back.
Archmagus Justinius Valerian was the supreme head of the Conclave of Sorcerers, commander in chief of the Brotherhood of Conclave Guardians, and the craftiest spellslinger in the seven kingdoms. And he didn’t get there by being anything other than shrewd, manipulative, and brilliant, and that was just the start of his qualifications. I’d heard he was a foul-tempered, nasty old man. I’d heard right. But I liked the old guy anyway. Come to think of it, those things were probably the reason why I liked him.
Considering that he’d had a black-magic-induced heart attack only five days ago, Archmagus Justinius Valerian didn’t look half bad. In fact, he looked pretty much the same as the last time I’d seen him. What once might have been lean had turned grizzled. What might have been a luxurious head of hair was now a fringe of downy, white tufts
on a liver-spotted head. Only a pair of gleaming blue eyes gave a clue to the man himself. He was awake and those bright eyes were homed in on Piaras and me.
I smelled a setup and a half. Archmagus Shrewd and Manipulative was doing quite well, and when Mychael had said that he wasn’t taking any chances, it appeared he wasn’t taking any chances that anyone would find out the old man wasn’t wheezing his last breath. A lot was going on here that I didn’t know about. There was a reason for it, and I wanted to know what it was.
Then I was the sole object of Justinius’s attention. I knew what he was going to do. With the strength I had now, I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. Yes, one word from him could have me locked up or executed within two minutes, but since the moment I’d met him, my gut told me that I could trust Justinius Valerian. My gut had never been wrong, at least not yet. I didn’t think now was going to be the first time. The old man was going to find out anyway, might as well be now.
Justinius Valerian’s eyes never left mine, but they changed focus, and I felt the barest hint of the power that’d earned him his title. He was seeing me inside and out. Again. It was the type of seeing that’d earn any other magic user the business end of my fist. But until I could get rid of the rock and my umi’atsu bond with Tam and Mychael, I was what I was. There was no changing it or escaping it.
The archmagus’s bright blue eyes were hard as agates as he looked from me to Mychael and back again.
“You’ve protected her,” Justinius said.
“Yes, sir. I did.” Mychael’s voice, like his resolve, was unwavering.
I tried to pull a little air into my lungs past the sudden lump in my throat. To anyone listening, the archmagus was merely pointing out that the paladin was doing his job—not that he’d linked himself to the Saghred’s bond servant to keep her from being consumed by an umi’atsu bond.
The old man nodded once. “And you did what you had to do.”
“I did, sir.”
Justinius paused. “You’re protecting the other one, too.”
I knew who he meant. Tam. I also knew the reason Justinius didn’t say his name out loud wasn’t due to any prejudice that Tam was a goblin, or distaste that he was a dark mage. Even though the other people in the room listening were probably trusted ears, the old man was smart; he didn’t get and keep his job by taking chances.
The Trouble with Demons Page 19
